As they headed toward the main doors, Sarah suddenly swung a light punch at Amy’s shoulder.
“Ouch!” Amy yelped, staggering half a step and clutching the spot. “What was that for?”
Sarah grinned, unrepentant. “Just a reminder of what Clara’s signing up for. My punch can move mountains— and you know it.”
Amy gave her a flat look, rubbing her shoulder. “Mountains, huh? More like paper cups.”
Sarah gasped theatrically. “How dare you disrespect my legendary strength?”
“Legendary?” Amy snorted. “The only thing legendary about you is your ability to get us into trouble."
  Sarah placed a hand on her chest in mock outrage. “Me? No way! I’m an innocent bystander in all of life’s chaos.”
Amy arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Sure you are.”
“Watch and learn,” Sarah declared, suddenly bouncing on the balls of her feet. She threw quick, exaggerated punches into the air—“One! Two! One! Two!”—like a boxer warming up for a championship round.
Amy sighed, rubbing her forehead. “You’re impossible.”
With a resigned shake of her head, she turned and walked toward the main doors.
Behind her, Sarah followed, still jabbing at imaginary opponents, grinning like a cat who’d just conquered the world.
   ***********************
  That evening, as the last streaks of sunlight melted behind the dormitory roofs, Sarah’s phone buzzed with a message.
Louis: Dinner tonight? 7 p.m. I’ll pick you up.
Sarah stared at the text, her mouth falling open. “Oh. My. God.” She spun in a circle, nearly tripping. “Okay, stay calm… it’s only Louis… just Louis… with perfect hair and a smile that could ruin my GPA.”
She flung herself at Amy, who was lounging on her bed, flipping through a novel.
“Amy!” she squeaked. “Emergency! He asked for a date—tonight. I need makeup. Like… professional, celebrity-level makeup.”
Amy raised one brow lazily. “Sweetheart, you own one lip balm and a tube of glitter that looks like it came from a craft store.”
“Exactly!” Sarah wailed. “That’s why I’m going next door. Wish me luck.”
She bolted out the door and padded down the hall to Dorm Room 205_the one rumored to belong to a pair of girls who always had the best beauty supplies.
As she got closer, bass thudded through the corridor. She hesitated at their door, wincing as the music rattled the frame.
She knocked, then cautiously stepped inside.
Instantly, her eardrums protested. Two girls were sprawled on beanbags, head-bopping to an ear-splitting pop song. One was painting her nails while the other flipped through a glossy magazine, both completely oblivious to the rest of the world.
“Wow,” Sarah mouthed, half tempted to cover her ears. She followed the trail of sound to a speaker perched on the dresser and tapped the power button. The music cut off with a dramatic click.
Both girls froze, mid-bob, and turned slowly to look at her.
“Uh… hi,” Sarah said, offering a sheepish smile. “Sorry to interrupt your… concert.”
One of them raised an eyebrow, but not unkindly. “You brave enough to kill the music must be desperate.”
Sarah laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, kind of. I, um… have a date tonight and zero makeup. Could I borrow some?”
The other girl brightened, setting aside her magazine. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?” She reached under the bed and pulled out a sleek zippered case, followed by another, and another. “We’ve got you covered.”
The first girl grinned, rummaging through a bag the size of a small suitcase. “Foundation, blush, highlighter… name your weapon.”
Sarah relaxed, relieved. “Honestly? I’ll take anything that’ll make me look like I didn’t just roll out of study hall.”
“Sit,” the nail-painter instructed, patting a free spot on the beanbag. “Operation Glow-Up is a go.”
  Sarah’s eyes widened at the sheer treasure trove spread across the beanbag. Lipsticks lined up like soldiers, palettes fanned open in a rainbow of possibilities.
“Whoa,” she breathed, lifting a sparkly compact. “You two could open a beauty shop.”
“Tempting,” one of the girls said, laughing as she snapped open a case full of brushes.
Sarah turned the compact over in her hands, already plotting. “Maybe I should just… take a few things back to my dorm? I swear I’ll return them after—”
Both girls gasped dramatically.
“Oh no you don’t,” said the one with the nail polish, wagging a brush like a tiny wand. “These babies don’t leave the room.”
“Yeah,” the other added, eyes twinkling. “But we will give you the deluxe service—for free. Our hands, your face. Sit.”
Before Sarah could protest, they’d cleared a space on the beanbag and motioned for her to plop down.
“Close your eyes,” said the taller girl, selecting a brush with a flourish. “We’re about to transform you from study-mode to date-mode.”
Sarah sank into the seat, a grin tugging at her lips despite herself. “Okay, fine. But if I end up looking like a circus act, I’m blaming you.”
“Trust us,” one said, already dabbing primer onto her cheeks. “We only use the good stuff.”
The other lined up colors with the precision of a scientist. 
As powders and brushes danced across her face, Sarah peeked at the mirror perched on the dresser. Her reflection was already softening, her eyes catching the light. She couldn’t help smiling—half nerves, half delight.
Amy was going to flip when she saw this.
   ***********************
  Adrian set the last dish neatly on the small table by the window, stepping back to check the arrangement. The faint glow of the bedside lamp caught the steam rising from the plates—pasta tossed with herbs, a bowl of roasted vegetables, and a small tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries he’d made on a whim.
He wiped his hands on the folded towel hanging by the sink, satisfaction flickering across his face. Everything looked exactly the way he’d imagined: calm, simple, but warm enough to make Amy feel welcome.
Reaching for his phone, he paused for a heartbeat, thumb hovering over the screen as he debated the words. A quiet smile curved his lips.
> Adrian: Everything’s ready.
Can’t wait for you to come over.
He hesitated, then added another line, softer, almost teasing:
> Adrian: Don’t be nervous. Just bring yourself.
Satisfied, he hit send and set the phone face-down on the table, glancing once more around the room before pouring a glass of water and leaning against the counter, waiting.